


Brains and Blood

by ynyseira



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), iZombie (TV)
Genre: Brains, Crypt Sex, F/M, M/M, Mortuary, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Sex, Shady Plots, Smut, Vampires, Warnings May Change, Zombies, vampires vs. zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28962870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ynyseira/pseuds/ynyseira
Summary: Sunnydale has a new mortuary, and a new (strangely pale) funeral director...
Relationships: Buffy Summers/Spike/Blaine DeBeers
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not own or have any rights to Buffy or iZombie. I am only playing with the characters that Joss Whedon and Rob Thomas so graciously shared with the world. They are not mine.**

Buffy shouldered a bag full of stakes and weapons on her way out of the house. She passed Willow in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal, a time-tested dinner for those of little cash. 

“Patrol time?” asked Willow. 

“As always,” replied Buffy, only a little wearily. Since returning from the dead, even nightly patrols had lost some of the thrill. Slay one vampire, you’ve slayed them all. These days, the only things she really looked forward to were her (ugh) secret rendezvous with Spike. 

Willow smiled, trying to be encouraging. “Any interesting demons out lately? Maybe one whose spit causes you to relive your most embarrassing middle school moment over and over?”

Buffy forced a smile in return. “Nothing that exciting. Vamps. A few more brain munchers." Zombies were not unheard of in these parts, and the incidents were few and far between, so they weren't a pressing concern. "Although...there is a new mortuary in town I’ve been meaning to check out.”

Willow wrinkled her brow. “Mortuary in Sunnydale, not that uncommon?” She was right. A new funeral parlor wasn’t surprising; there were almost as many of them as there were cemeteries. What was surprising was the high number of customers of the non-dead variety Buffy had seen going in and out at all hours of the day. Sunnydale had as many funerals as any other Hellmouth town, but this was high traffic, even for them.

“Yeah, but this one is called ‘Shady Plots;’ only a true villain could come up with something that punny.”

She was halfway to Shady Plots when Spike appeared, sidling in from nowhere like he always did. 

“Going to check out the new stiff shack? Smart, I’ve been keeping an eye on it myself.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Of course you have. And no doubt stealing any extra blood they have lying around.”

“First, a bloke’s gotta eat, and stealing blood is the only way I can get a meal now, since the Initiative saw fit to remove my other options. Second, if you’d been paying attention in Slayer school, you’d know that mortuaries throw it all down the drain. Bloody waste, if you ask me. Pun intended.”

“Ew! Why on earth would I know that? I deal with people after they rise from the dead, not before.”

As they approached the building they saw a couple of figures walking out, each holding what looked like a take-out bag. The door was closed by the time they reached it so Buffy knocked. A moment later, a man in his mid-30s opened it. He was tall and dressed in a dark suit befitting his position. He had a face that made Buffy’s lady parts tingle: chiseled features topped by perfectly tousled hair, so bleached it was almost white (what was it about these platinum blondies she found so attractive?). He had a smile that could only be described as wolfish. But what made Buffy finger the stake in her pocket was his skin: so pale that it could give Spike’s a run for its money. The man was practically translucent. What was a vampire doing running a funeral home? Unless Spike was wrong about the blood disposal…

Buffy kept her stake hidden for now, but her grip on it tightened. 

"Welcome to Shady Plots, folks. And let me start off by saying, I am so, so sorry for your loss." He managed to sound both heartfelt and disingenuous at the same time. 

"Oh, we haven’t…" Spike began, but Buffy elbowed him, cutting him off. 

"We haven’t…” Buffy continued for him “...totally come to terms with our grandfather’s death. We’re just going through the motions.” Spike stared at her. “Our mother sent...my brother and me to check out your funeral home. To see if it was suitable for gramps.” Spike’s stare widened in disbelief. She was babbling now, but suitman seemed unfazed.

“Well, grief takes all forms, and I’m sorry nonetheless. Please come in and I’ll give you the tour myself.” He gestured inside with a motion that would have been suave under any other circumstances.

He showed them around the visitation room, the wall of coffin samples, the displays of urns. Another knock came at the door, and the man said “Please excuse me; important business, I’ll just be a moment. Feel free to keep perusing.”

Buffy pretended to be interested in an ornate coffin handle but watched him through the corner of her eye. He opened a door that said “Staff Only,” descended some stairs, and in a few minutes came back up with more of the take-out bags. Buffy thought there was a funny aroma wafting from them. She heard a hushed conversation at the front door as she started towards the funeral director’s office. She caught the words “Blaine DeBeers” on his nameplate but before she had a chance to investigate further he was back, smiling ingratiatingly. 

“Someone die with their leftovers in their hand?” Buffy said, barely hiding her sarcasm.

“Personal items. From the deceased.” He was smooth, she’d give him that.

“Okay, look,” she said, sighing. “I know what you are. What is this a front for? Are you selling blood to other vampires?”

Blaine looked surprised. “I don’t know what…”

“Drop the act, or I’ll drop your head.” Not her best quip, but she was tired.

“Really, I’m not…”

Buffy had had enough of this game. She shoved him up against the nearest wall, and was close enough to know that he smelled really good, even if there was that other, more subtle spoiling-takeout-bag-smell underneath. She thought his eyes flashed red for a moment, but she was probably imagining it. “Okay, play dumb. But do you know who I am?”

Buffy could sense him giving in. But instead of acting defeated, he smirked, holding up his hands. “Yeah, but what are you going to do, slay me?”

So he knew. He had known the whole time and was just toying with them. Buffy she took out her stake, brandishing it at Blaine. Spike stood nearby, fists at the ready.

“Whoa there missy,” he said condescendingly. “You could put an eye out with that thing. Besides, if you’re really the Slayer, you’ll have a reputation to uphold. Not just for slaying demons, but for protecting humanity." He gave a little fake pout. "And I'm as human as they come," he said, spreading his hands apart.

At this Spike snorted. "Mate, I know humans. I can smell 'em. Smell like fresh blood and doughy pastries." Buffy looked at him like he was crazy, but he just shrugged. "But you? You're all rotting flesh and wilting flowers. You are one hundred percent undead, like me. Only I smell nicer."

Buffy glared at Blaine, confused, and it was his turn to shrug. “Fair enough. Your ‘brother’ caught me,” he addressed Buffy. “Zombie, not vampire. But you’ll find I’m operating completely above board here, and what’s more, I’m willing to bet no one around can provide the services I can.”

“What kinds of services?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

Blaine spoke like the answer was obvious. “Brains. I set up shop in Sunnydale because you’ve got a bit of a feral zombie problem, yes? You know the ones, all George Romero style with the fleshy bits hanging off?”

He wasn’t wrong. And dealing with them was not fun; decapitation was unpalatable, and destroying the head afterwards even worse, especially when the recipient didn’t immediately turn to dust.

Blaine cut right to the chase. “You’re murdering potential clients. See, the only reason I’m not out there with them moaning ‘braaaiins’ is because I never skip meals, and make sure I get a hearty helping of each of the main food groups: cerebrum, cerebellum, and stem. That’s what I’m doing here: keeping those poor sods off the streets.”

Buffy struggled to think of a reason why this was wrong. “So you rip the brains out of these dead bodies. These were people! They have loved ones, families! You can’t just…”

“Like anyone’s going to notice? Least of all the bodies. Listen, I’m doing you a favor here. In fact…" At this, Spike glanced meaningfully at Buffy. He knew where this was going, because one schemer could always spot another. Blaine went on. "I imagine you'd be willing to pay a small remuneration for my help. Hate to have all those ravenous zombies preying on innocent citizens."

Buffy opened her mouth incredulously. "Are you…blackmailing me? Seriously?" She pushed him back against the wall, not hard enough to damage anything, but definitely hard enough to hurt. 

Blaine had the decency to seem frightened. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll give you a discount.” 

She slammed his chest again, for show, then released him. Blaine ceremoniously dusted off his suit jacket with an air of victory. Buffy hated his smug, sexy, stupid face.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m not paying you either, you slimy brain jockey. Your life is your ‘remuneration’, and if you put one toe out of line, you forfeit it.” Sigh. Why was she so soft? Faith may have been a homicidal maniac, but at least she didn’t have to suffer idiots like Buffy did. She walked out, Spike behind her, without bothering to see Blaine’s reaction.

Outside of the funeral home, Spike was visibly seething. “Zombies,” he practically spat out the word. “Hate ‘em with a passion. Sentient ones are the worst...stealing our spotlight, now they’re so popular. We were sexy first! You may not want to kill him, but I’ve got no such compunctions. We can handle Sunnydale’s zombie problem ourselves.” Buffy was tempted; even if his business offered some benefits, he was clearly dangerous. Like Spike used to be before he was chipped. Now, Spike was more bark than bite; she chuckled at her own joke. “No,” she said reluctantly, “but thanks for offering. We should keep a close eye on him, though. I don’t trust him any more than I trust you.” 

Spike looked hurt. “Hey, I’m on your side now! Haven’t I been helping you out?”

Buffy glanced at him pityingly. “Yes, but, ulterior motives much? We both know that you just want to be close to me. And that since you can’t bite humans, you’ve got to blow off steam somehow, so you might as well be killing demons.” Spike continued to look injured so Buffy conceded, “But yeah, the slaying gig is always easier when you’re around.”

Spike sniffed, shrugging it off. “Damn right it is. You can't deny we make a good team, Slayer.”

Buffy had to agree, even if she hated it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I do not own or have any rights to Buffy or iZombie. I am only playing with the characters that Joss Whedon and Rob Thomas so graciously shared with the world. They are not mine.**

Not as much as she hated herself when she was screwing Spike, again, a few nights later. Slayage had been slow; it seemed Blaine was making good on his promise to keep the zombies well-fed and out of trouble. She decided to put Shady Plots out of her mind for now. The thought of Blaine, however, with his searing gaze and cocky smile was harder to get rid of. God, what was her damage? Spike was bad enough, but she could reluctantly admit that he (sometimes) tried to be good. Blaine was utterly despicable, if not exactly evil to her knowledge. Not to mention his disgusting all-grey-matter diet. Had coming back from the dead made her hopelessly attracted to undead jerks?

As she pondered this, she took out her moment of frustration on Spike, slamming him hard against the ground. They were in his crypt, and she had jumped him as soon as she saw him, not bothering with the bed. Buffy grabbed Spike’s hair and pulled, hard, eliciting a yowl from the vampire, as she undid his pants deftly with the other hand.

“Ow! What gives, Slayer?” His look of shock quickly turned to a leer. “Someone’s a right little hellcat tonight. Not that I’m complainin’...”

Buffy didn’t bother to reply. She was angry, and she needed release, preferably as soon as possible. She unsheathed Spike’s long cock from his pants and straddled it under her skirt, not even bothering to remove her panties. As his cock slid in, Spike closed his eyes involuntarily and gave a little sigh. Buffy didn’t have to worry about being wet for him, because it seemed like she was always wet these days - nothing could completely satisfy her, and therefore she was in a near-constant state of arousal. 

_What would Blaine's cock feel like?_ She found herself wondering as she rode Spike, long and slow. Would he be able to slake her thirst as not even Spike could? She slid down Spike's cock as far as she could go, grinding her pelvis around in a way that made Spike groan. Her hands found his hair again and she tugged, using it to give her leverage as she settled into a rhythm. 

Spike helped himself to Buffy’s chest, gently squeezing the round of her breasts. His fingers caressed her nipples, almost reverently. He lifted his torso off the ground, far enough so that he could bend his head and capture one in his mouth. He suckled it, teased it, until Buffy made gratified little noises. Her nipples had always been especially sensitive. 

“Mmm. I love how you purr for me, kitten,” groaned Spike, talking around her hard little nub.

Now would normally be the time when Buffy would argue that she wasn’t his kitten, but she was off in a daydream, one that involved a different monster. _I bet Blaine is a pincher. And a biter._ She didn't stop to think of the implications of a zombie bite, sexual or not.

“More,” she ordered, and Spike obeyed, biting down on her nipples until she cried out. Then she concentrated on riding him, hard and fast, relishing the friction it was causing on her swollen clit, each moment inching her closer to orgasm.

Spike reached down between them and stuck a finger into her pussy, no easy job given that his cock was already stretching it impossibly tight. 

“So wet for me. Hot little cunnie, so bloody wet for Spike.”

 _Cunnie,_ Buffy thought. _What a silly word._ Would Blaine use such ridiculous words to describe her lady parts? Probably, only she imagined he’d say “cherry” and “muffin.” Why was that thought making her tingle more than the admittedly fantastic sex she was having right now? Blaine had definitely gotten under her skin, and she wasn’t sure how she would exorcise him. For now, she settled for the demon in front of her, or rather, underneath her.

Spike, clueless of Buffy’s inner monologue, was enjoying her enthusiasm nonetheless. He grabbed her ass with one hand as she fucked him, the other still stroking her insides. It had the desired effect, and that along with the pressure on her clit made her finally peak. She let out a primal noise as she came, bucking her way through it. Spike wasn’t long behind; seeing his Slayer lose control caused him to lose his own, and he spasmed into her.

After they had caught their breath, they eased apart, sticky and spent. Buffy collapsed beside him and allowed him to put his arm around her. She hated pillow talk with Spike; it reminded her too much of a normal relationship, and what they had was anything but normal. But tonight she was so desperate to get Blaine out of her mind that she struck up a conversation. 

“So...anything new going on lately?”

Spike looked surprised to hear her speak. Eventually he answered, eyebrow raised, “You’d know as well as I do. Shag, slay, sleep - thus is the life of a vampire in love with a Slayer.” He pretended not to notice Buffy cringing at the word “love.” 

She seemed to have run out of things to say as soon as she had started, and was silent for so long that Spike was about to pull away first to break the awkwardness. Then she hit him with: 

“Do you ever get tired of this?”

“What, this?” He gestured to their respective sexy bits. 

“No. Living. Well, in your case, un-living.” 

Spike sighed, propping himself up on his elbow, the better to look at her. “We’ve been over this. I bloody sang it to you. Living is just something you _do._ I may be stuck on this earth until I’m staked, but you’re not, and that alone makes life a gift.” Buffy still marvelled at the profundity that this soulless, punk rock creature possessed. He looked at her seriously. “You’re not still entertaining _that_ line of thinking, are you? ‘Cause I’m pretty fond of having you around.”

Buffy was always startled by his sincerity. She took the compliment and smiled, reluctantly. “Don’t worry about me. It’s just hard, you know? Fighting the good fight. Protecting Dawn. Being strong for everybody. Day. After. Day. I don’t know how the average person gets by, let alone me. But you...you don’t just live life. You relish it. You grab life by the balls and make it work for you.” She shrugged. “I’m just jealous, I guess. I have a purpose, but you have the motivation.”

Spike brushed her hair away from her face gently. _“You’re_ my motivation, Slayer. Didn’t even realize it until I met you. I could be the same for you, if you’d let me in.”

Buffy was very close to leaning in for a kiss, which would have been an assent to his unspoken question, when she shook herself out of it and stood up suddenly. Spike, too used to this kind of response, began pulling on his pants as if the conversation never happened.

“You going to be patrolling tomorrow night? I was thinking about checking out Shady Plots again. I don’t trust that Blaine character one bit.”

There he was again, despite Buffy’s best efforts. Blaine’s name alone caused a mixed reaction of revulsion and excitement in her.

“I don’t think he’s a threat, Spike. An annoyance, maybe, but not a threat.” She almost wished he was. It would give her an excuse to punch his face and make it less exquisite-looking.

“Still. Could get your mind off of…” he waved his hand vaguely in her direction…”all that existential rot. Either way, I’ll be there.” He paused, considering, then added: “I’ll always be there.” She knew he didn’t mean at the mortuary.

Buffy, now fully dressed, gave Spike a slight nod, wordlessly acknowledging his ongoing support and devotion to her. Even if it made her uncomfortable, there was a part of her that appreciated it. That part of her relented, just for a second, and she gave Spike a quick kiss on the cheek before she left. She glanced back to see him touching his face gingerly where her lips had been.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I do not own or have any rights to Buffy or iZombie. I am only playing with the characters that Joss Whedon and Rob Thomas shared with the world. They are not mine.**

Buffy decided that it wouldn't hurt to turn up at Shady Plots the next night, although she deliberately showed up late to show Spike it wasn't a priority to her. She found him lurking around the side of the building, smoking and watchful. He flicked away his cigarette as she approached. He nodded at her, then at the front door, figures emerging from the funeral home.

Buffy tensed, but it was just a man and a woman talking amiably as they walked to their car, each carrying a takeout bag. They were both well-dressed and looked like they could have been out on a date. Which, for all Buffy knew, they were; headed home for a candlelit meal of ::shudder:: brain mignon with pommes frites.

Buffy hid in the shadows near Spike for half an hour, not feeling the need to fill the silence with chitchat. A few more customers came and went, but she didn’t see anything suspicious until she happened to glance at one of the windows and saw Blaine, his hand ready to draw the curtains. He smirked at her and she felt caught in the act. She glared back and he winked, then withdrew. She was sickened at the warm sensation she felt spreading through her chest. She gasped a little before she caught herself. Spike gave her the side-eye but said nothing. Somewhere inside a light clicked off and she heard the front door being locked.

After waiting for fifteen more minutes, Buffy sensed that nothing else was amiss and turned to leave, shooting Spike an “I-told-you-so” look. He grabbed her by the sleeve of her leather jacket and leered at her. 

“If you’ve got nothing else going tonight, do you want to…?” He drew her in for a kiss that was all tongue, and she gave into it for a second. Then she pulled away, both from his delicious, smoky mouth and his grip. 

“Not tonight. Going to meet Willow and Xander at the Bronze. I checked out the cemetery and there’s no activity, and I need to blow off some steam.”

Spike tilted his head, then gestured to his pants with a mock flourish. “Not that kind of steam,” she retorted. “I need to have a night off. With my friends.” She pretended not to see Spike’s wounded face as she walked away. 

“S’fine!” He called after her. “There’s a game of kitten poker with the boys tonight anyway! No Slayers allowed.” But Buffy didn’t miss the longing in his voice.

Buffy ordered a drink at the bar, then scanned the crowd for Willow and Xander. She thought she saw the tops of their heads dancing in the crowd and started towards them when she bumped into someone. Her eyes narrowed. Of course. It had to be Blaine.

Beer in hand, he raised the bottle to her and took a swig. 

"So this is where the cool kids hang out." Blaine was certainly older than the average Bronzer, but he still fit in nicely, with his bed head/probably-just-had-sex locks and his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a hint of the downy hair on his chest. Oddly, it was bleached to be the same color as the rest of his hair. He really was committed to the look.

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“Ouch,” he said, with false sincerity. Everything about Blaine was insincere. “I enjoy the nightlife as much as any funeral director. I love to boogie.” He did a little dance that would have looked embarrassing on anyone else, but it just drew Buffy’s attention to his waist, and what was below it.

As if reading her mind, he grabbed Buffy’s hands and whirled her around to face away from him. The music was pulsing and his body pulsed along, pressing up against her. She found herself inadvertently grinding her ass on his pelvis, and his arousal was unmistakable. Blaine’s lips found her ear, barely touching it, and he whispered “I’ll admit it - I came here to see you, Buffy. Fate brought me to Sunnydale for a reason. Maybe you’re the reason. Would you care to help me test that theory?” 

He moved a hand from her waist to her neck, running his finger along it lightly. She shivered and closed her eyes. Her panties suddenly felt damp. It’s not that she was getting bored with Spike, but that her body seemed to crave excitement, danger...and she sensed that somehow, Blaine was even more dangerous than Spike.

Still, she had standards. If Spike was as low as her standards would allow, then Blaine was well beneath that. She slipped out of his grasp, and as she did, felt a slight scratch on her neck when Blaine pulled his hand away. “Sorry, pointy ring,” he said, displaying his hand. 

Buffy ignored it. “You don’t strike me as the type to believe in fate.” 

“Oh, Slayer,” he said, voice still low, mouth widening into a smile that blurred the line between sexy and deranged. “You have no idea.” 

Buffy was trying to come up with a response to this when Xander and Willow appeared next to them. 

“Who’s this? Spike’s long-lost twin?” said Xander, ever tactful.

“Blaine. Blaine DeBeers. I was just leaving.” He handed his unfinished beer to Xander and gave Buffy a significant look. “Think about what I said. You know where to find me.” And he disappeared into the crowd. 

Buffy, dazed, stared after him. Willow spoke up. “Blaine? As in Shady Plots Blaine? As in brains-for-breakfast Blaine?”

Buffy recovered, although she still felt a little shaken. “The very same. I was just telling him that he’d better toe the line or I’d have words with him.” 

Xander snorted. “Is that what you were telling him?” Willow gave him a look, a “you’d-better-cut-our-friend-who-we-ripped-out-of-heaven-some-slack” look, and Xander went all hangdog. 

“Listen, Buffy,” whispered Willow, “I know we came here to have fun, but I need to talk to you about him. I’ve been doing some research, and I may have found out why Sunnydale has had such an influx of sentient zombies lately.” Buffy had been wondering that herself. The shamblers had been scarce on the streets, but Blaine’s business seemed to be booming.

“Will, can you tell me tomorrow? I’ve got the worst headache, and it isn’t Blaine.” Willow and Xander gave each other a pointed glance, a look Buffy had become accustomed to seeing on her friends lately. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“Sure, it can wait. I’ll see you at home in the morning?”

“Yeah, ‘nite, Will. ‘Nite Xander.” She stumbled out of the club, wondering why she was suddenly so overcome with exhaustion and knowing she would sleep like the dead as soon as her head hit her pillow.

Blaine stepped into the basement beneath Shady Plots. A dim light was on overhead, and he could hear someone rummaging around in the walk-in freezer.

“Don E?”

Blaine’s bald, weaselly assistant peered out, holding a styrofoam cooler. He looked disapproving. 

“I don’t like this, man. Scratching the Slayer? We don’t even know what that could do to her. And, more importantly, what she’ll do to us when she finds out.”

Blaine leaned casually on the steel table in the middle of the room. It hadn’t been cleaned yet, and he dragged his finger through a smear of blood.

“What she’ll do, dimwit, is be under my thumb. The most powerful woman in the world, and she’ll be begging us for brains. Speaking of which, did you get the one I asked for?”

“I mean, the owner was until recently using it, but I got it.” Don E. looked, if it was possible, more reproachful, as if he hadn’t committed the heinous act himself. He opened the cooler for Blaine.

“Perfect. Have our chef prepare it with the usual accompaniments. It needs to be ready by tomorrow.”

“As you wish, master.” Always with the sarcasm, Don E. But still, so strangely loyal, and so easily manipulated. Getting Buffy to bend her will would not be as effortless, and not without a fight. That’s what Blaine was counting on. Before Don E. walked away with the cooler, Blaine reached in, grabbed a bit of the brain, and popped it in his mouth. 

“Perfect,” he said again, feeling the brain starting to work on him already.


End file.
